Deadly Intent

They cleared the town limits and twin beams of light leaped ahead of them as he switched the headlights to high beam. A red kangaroo trampolined across their path, disappearing into the well of darkness beyond the road. “You’d never be happy with tame and meek.”

She felt as jumpy as the kangaroo. “How do you know what I’d be happy with?” Particularly when she didn’t know herself.

“I know you better than you want me to. We’re two of a kind.”

Cleansing anger washed away some of her diffidence. “Is that supposed to be flattering?”

“It’s simply fact.”

“I take back what I said. You’re definitely not meek or tame. You’re bossy and pigheaded.”

He gave a low laugh. “As I said, two of a kind.”

He’d achieved one thing. No longer drained and tired, she felt charged with energy and a desire to lash out at something—or someone. She simmered for the rest of the drive home, only remembering that she’d agreed to share the bottle of wine with him when they pulled up outside the old cottage.

She stayed where she was. “I’ve changed my mind. I’d rather go home.”

He got out. “Suit yourself. I won’t be long.”

Watching him go inside, she was sorely tempted to slide across and drive herself back to the homestead. But she was too well schooled in outback courtesy. If anything went wrong, he would be stranded here. She couldn’t do it.

“One drink, nothing else,” she muttered to herself and followed him inside.

He was already levering the cork out of the chilled Chablis with an old-fashioned opener. “Don’t jackeroos just knock the top off the bottle?” she asked.

“Waste of good wine.” He poured some into glasses. Two glasses, she noted. He’d been very sure she’d decide to join him.

Accepting the drink he offered, she was annoyed to find that her hand was less than steady. She raised the glass to her mouth, pleased when she didn’t spill any. The icy liquid was refreshing as she waited for the alcohol to counteract the nervous strain of a hellish night.

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